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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24395980">maybe this could be your home</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/escapismandsharpobjects/pseuds/escapismandsharpobjects'>escapismandsharpobjects</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, Hurt Michael Guerin, Hurt/Comfort, Jesse Manes Being an Asshole, POV Michael Guerin, Slammed into a Wall, light on the hurt for once</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:35:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,548</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24395980</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/escapismandsharpobjects/pseuds/escapismandsharpobjects</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>written for bthb prompt: slammed into a wall.  "he closes his eyes and does the only thing he can think of-calls out to Isobel and Max and hopes that they hear him."<br/>or: michael and alex talk about jesse. jesse finds out and pays michael a visit.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Isabel Evans &amp; Max Evans &amp; Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin &amp; Alex Manes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>maybe this could be your home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello!! this is the first fic i have written from michael's pov so i hope it's okay!! i just love michael and max and isobel's dynamic this season so that's the majority of this fic! hope you like!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Michael sits across from Alex in a booth at the Crashdown, bouncing his leg. “You don’t have to, like, forgive him or anything.” He pauses for a moment, eats a few fries, tries to find his words. “You don’t owe him anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Alex says, looking at the table. “I know, and I’m not forgiving him. I just...I think he could be helpful in this whole mess? And, I don’t know, I mean, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>I don’t owe him anything, but I feel like...I have to try, I guess? Or, I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to, but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael nods. He doesn’t understand Alex’s exact situation, not really. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>certainly will never forgive Jesse Manes for the things he’s done. Doesn’t think Alex should either, or even bother talking to him, for that matter. But it isn’t his choice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I get it.” He doesn’t, of course, but it’s not like he hasn’t been working on repairing some familial relationships lately, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex smiles, slightly, gratefully, and moves to stand. Michael stops him, reaching across the table and placing a hand onto Alex’s arm. “Be careful, okay?” he says, tries to frame it casually. “You know what he’s capable of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex nods and steps away. “Thanks,” he says, offering up another smile, slipping a ten dollar bill onto the table for his food. “We’re meeting on Wednesday, I’ll tell you how it goes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he leaves, and Michael sits in the booth and broods for a bit before reluctantly clearing out as the first wave of the dinner crowd arrives. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets back to his trailer shortly before six, and spends the remainder of the evening tinkering in his lab, finally emerging close to midnight. He takes a moment before he goes inside, leaning against the metal wall of the trailer, gazing up into the cloudless night sky. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Home is out there somewhere,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks to himself, shoving down a faint voice in the back of his head that insists, </span>
  <em>
    <span>home can be here too.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. He’s just about to open them and head inside when he hears footsteps approaching. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How had he missed that?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He spins to face his almost-certainly-unwelcome guest and finds himself face-to-face with none other than Jesse Manes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he can say or do anything, Manes is shoving him backwards, pinning him to the exterior wall of his trailer with a loud </span>
  <em>
    <span>clang </span>
  </em>
  <span>that reverberates inside his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael shoves the other man off of himself easily, but Manes redoubles in his efforts, striding forward and absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>slamming </span>
  </em>
  <span>Michael into the wall with such force that Michael thinks he can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>the metal bending around his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Manes’ face is inches from his now, and-</span>
  <em>
    <span>oh, he’s saying something,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Michael realizes, and he shakes his head slightly to try to stop the ringing in his ears. His head spins, but he manages to focus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-is none of your damn business!” Manes is saying, his eyes alight with rage. Michael is momentarily taken back to that night in the shed, which was nothing like this but also exactly like this, with Jesse Manes dangerously close to him, making him feel all kinds of </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and even though Michael could easily use his powers to escape the hold Manes has on him, he can’t-he doesn’t even think to, honestly. Fear keeps him rooted to the spot, staring into those cold and angry eyes with all the defiance he can muster (which isn’t that much, at the moment). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, Manes releases him, with a snap of, “stay out of my affairs, Guerin, or you won’t like what happens next.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael doesn’t have the time to process that before he sways and nearly falls to the ground, a wave of dizziness rolling over him. He blinks slowly, and then he is </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he sinks to his knees, feeling his back protest, only just now noticing the tang of blood in his mouth. He wonders vaguely just how hard his head had collided with the trailer wall, and tries to focus on what Manes had said to him. But his head is well and truly </span>
  <em>
    <span>aching </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he just feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad,</span>
  </em>
  <span> so he closes his eyes and does the only thing he can think of-calls out to Isobel and Max and hopes that they hear him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He isn’t sure how much time passes before he spies the approaching headlights of Max’s car-he doesn’t think it’s been that long, but everything feels fuzzy, and it’s possible he’s been sitting out here for hours. He brings up a hand to shield his eyes as the car slows to a stop in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isobel is first to his side, asking, “what happened?” in a voice far more laced with concern than he’s ever heard her direct at him before. He explains, in few words, his encounter with Jesse Manes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max looks angry, ready to stomp off and give the man a piece of his mind (and maybe his fists). Michael, however, tells him to stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t go trying to be a hero, Max,” he says, his head aching with every word. “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Max rounds on him. “Fine-it’s not fine, he can’t just-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max,” Isobel says, shooting him a </span>
  <em>
    <span>look.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “He told you to drop it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he says finally, his tone indicating he thinks it’s anything but. “At least let me heal you, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Michael and Isobel snap sharp </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s at him. “You think I’m gonna let Mr. Recently-Back-From-The-Dead waste his healing powers-which he shouldn’t even be </span>
  <em>
    <span>using-</span>
  </em>
  <span>on a little headache?” Michael asks, shaking his head. Admittedly, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>hurt, and so does his back, and there is still the taste of blood in his mouth, but he’s fine, more or less. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little acetone and I’ll be just fine,” he says, trying to sound somewhat reassuring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Max sighs again and relents, striding into Michael’s trailer to locate some acetone. Isobel shifts herself so she’s sitting directly in front of him, and gently takes his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re sure you’re fine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Michael says, not elaborating. His head is really pounding now, but it’s not like this is an emergency. If it still hurts in the morning, maybe he’ll drop by Valenti’s place and have him check him out. He shudders mentally, hoping it won’t come to that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isobel looks like she wants to say something else, but before she can, Max returns, the door slamming behind him in a way that makes Michael wince. “Sorry,” he says, handing over a bottle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael takes a long pull of the acetone, and passes the bottle to Isobel without thinking. She grins and takes a sip, settling down beside him, then gestures for Max to sit down with them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does, with only minor grumbling about how it’s nearly two in the morning and they really should try to get some sleep. They pass the bottle around, and though they don’t talk, the silence feels just as comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael feels the last dregs of the fear he’d felt when Manes pinned him down evaporate as he sits with his siblings, leaning against the wall which had earlier been the cause of his pain (though it was relatively innocent, being as it was inanimate). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael finds himself relaxing for once, feels the headache slipping away, the taste of blood in his mouth washed out with acetone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At some point, he must have drifted off, because he wakes up with the sun beating down on him, sweaty and alone. He groans, stretches, and forces himself to his feet, noting with some satisfaction that his body feels back to normal, no pain at all remaining. He stumbles inside to change into some less-gross clothes, and nearly runs smack into Isobel, who is rooting around in his cabinets, making disapproving noises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning, Michael,” she says to him. “Why don’t you have, like, anything that even resembles breakfast food?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael blinks at her, looks to his left where Max is leaning against the wall. He hadn’t thought they would</span>
  <em>
    <span> stay.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hadn’t thought they’d quite built their relationship back up enough for that. But here they are, in his trailer, apparently searching for breakfast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can go out?” he suggests, still somewhat stunned that </span>
  <em>
    <span>they’re still here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good,” Max agrees, and Isobel nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Michael says, “okay.” He grabs his keys from the counter and heads out the door, not even looking behind him to ensure that they’re following-he knows they are. “I’ll drive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I call the passenger seat!” Isobel announces, and Michael hears Max yelp in surprise before the door bangs shut. Both of his siblings race past him and have a brief shoving match which ends with Isobel in the passenger seat, a triumphant smirk on her face. Max looks significantly less happy, squashed into the middle seat, his long legs scrunched up to fit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael smiles to himself as he slides behind the wheel, Isobel and Max already arguing about where they should go. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is nice, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks, and for once he doesn’t immediately tell the voice in his head to shut up when it insists, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this is home.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks so much for reading this!!!! i hope it was okay, and please feel free to let me know what you think!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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